<!DOCTYPE html>
<html>
<head>
<meta charset="UTF-8">
<title>My Jewel; Soonhoon by Kimbap_Kid</title>
<style type="text/css">

body { background-color: #ffffff; }
.CI {
text-align:center;
margin-top:0px;
margin-bottom:0px;
padding:0px;
}
.center   {text-align: center;}
.cover    {text-align: center;}
.full     {width: 100%; }
.quarter  {width: 25%; }
.smcap    {font-variant: small-caps;}
.u        {text-decoration: underline;}
.bold     {font-weight: bold;}
</style>
</head>
<body>
<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/28553760">My Jewel; Soonhoon</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kimbap_Kid/pseuds/Kimbap_Kid'>Kimbap_Kid</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>My Jewel [4]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>SEVENTEEN (Band)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Alternate Universe - High School, Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Angst with a Happy Ending, Childhood Friends, Fluff and Angst, Friends to Enemies to Friends to Lovers, M/M, Misunderstandings, Sad Kwon Soonyoung | Hoshi</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2021-01-04</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-04-26</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-11 00:21:37</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Not Rated</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>5</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>11,109</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/28553760</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kimbap_Kid/pseuds/Kimbap_Kid</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>{ 4/6 }</p><p>Kwon Soonyoung was a bullied child who thankfully found a friend to rely on. However, when this friend finds out they’re soulmates, he ignores Soonyoung at all costs, sending the poor boy in a state of pain and low self esteem. What makes it even worse? This past friend and him have still attended the same school since that day, and with his friends icy cold aura, the two have all but continued their distant relationship.</p><p>Lee Jihoon was a troubled kid suddenly forced to work hard to pay off his mother’s medical bills. His long-term friend noticed his strange behavior only for Jihoon to push him away, not wanting to hurt the other. After years of barely talking, on his tenth birthday, Jihoon discovers something. Turns out they’re soulmates. The insecure boy feels sorrow rather than joy, thinking his soulmate could do better, and distances himself.</p><p>The two remain separated by an invisible wall until one day, it seems to magically come crashing down.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Kwon Soonyoung | Hoshi/Lee Jihoon | Woozi</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>My Jewel [4]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/983418</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>7</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>14</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. i n t r o; Soonyoung</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>TW: self deprecation, if you’re not into characters talking poorly about themselves, I don’t think this fanfic will be good for you.</p><p>That being said, kinda a lot of angst at the beginning and throughout the story, but don’t worry it will get fluffy I promise!!</p><p>Thank you for reading, kudos, comments, and constructive comments are always appreciated !!!&lt;3</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <b>Soonyoung's POV</b>
</p><p> </p><p>I'm ugly. That's what everyone says about me, at least. It's not like they're lying. My eyes are small, my cheeks are chubby, and I only just recently got rid of my remaining baby fat. I don't know why I'm training to be an idol. Everyone around me looks so perfect and amazing and, well, like idols while I look like absolute garbage. If only I had my soulmate to support me. I'm always smiling and joking, making fun of myself just to make others laugh, but really I just can't take it anymore. I can't take how much I hate myself. Maybe that's why I want my soulmate.</p><p>I always talk about my soulmate as if I don't know them when really I've known them since primary school. His name is Lee Jihoon. He hates me. I don't know what I've done to make him hate me so much. Knowing me, I don't have to do anything and someone will start hating me. Why doesn't anyone love me? Maybe it's because I can't love myself? Everyone is always saying, "how can you expect someone to love you when you don't even love yourself?" It's impossible for me to like myself, though, let alone love myself. I see too many flaws, all of them scattered on my body, personality, intelligence, everything. I can't love myself, and, believe me, it’s a lot more frustrating for me than anyone else.</p><p>I do love my Jewel, though. When I got my Jewel, I thought, "Isn't it too bright?" My Jewel is a lemon yellow mixed with a warm orange. My Jewel is strange. There's a small white diamond in the middle. When I'm happy, it shines. The happier I am, the brighter it becomes. When I'm sad, it becomes dark. The sadder I am, the more it darkens. It's annoying to have everyone know how I'm feeling though; who’d wanna have their true emotions on display for anyone at all times? Invasive much?</p><p>This past year, the diamond has become almost black. I know when it gets brighter. I can feel its warmth, barely, but over the years the darkness has outweighed the brightness. The shines used to be very bright. The diamond would go from gray, a state of neutrality, to almost blinding. The shines have gotten much, much softer, almost to the point that I don't notice them at all. This past year, the shines have stopped. <em>Maybe it's a sign</em>, I thought. <em>Maybe it's telling me there really is no use.</em></p><p>I decide to keep going because of Jihoon. It's probably a bad reason, seeing as he wants nothing to do with me. But how can I not love him? He's hardworking, stubborn, tiny, and his pouts are adorable. What's not to love? But it's not just that, of course it’s not just that, I loved him before I even knew he <em>was</em> my soulmate after all.</p><p>I remember once in kindergarten, when Jihoon and I were seat mates, I lost my favorite pencil. It was just a plain yellow wooden pencil, but at the time I thought it was amazing. Looking back, I was a very easily amused child. I started crying and screaming to the point that my teacher had to call the principal. They tried calming me down but it was pointless. Then, out of nowhere, I felt someone hug me. I looked through blurry, tear-soaked eyes to see Jihoon with his best pencil in his hand. It was light pink and had blue bunnies all over it. He shoved it towards me and said, "Don't cry. You're too cute to be crying . . . Stupid." And that was all it took for me to be head over heels in love.</p><p>I was so happy. You made me happy. You still make me happy, Jihoonie. Shit, sorry. I like calling you Jihoonie when no one else can hear, like how it used to be. It may just be adding another syllable to your name but I can see how it would make you uncomfortable if you heard me say it now, since we’re. . . . I mean, I can't imagine you adding those two letters at the end of my name, calling me "Soonyoungie" in secret. I'll stop, it's a bad habit anyways. Stupid Soonyoung.</p><p>Surprisingly, we became really good friends after that. We were such good friends that he would let me hug him and touch him whenever I wanted. He'd even touch me and refused to touch anyone else because they had "cooties". I remember holding hands with him when we were cold. That was so nice. I know it must’ve seemed like an childish crush, but those feelings were very much love, the pure, innocent kind of love only children are capable of. The kind of love that isn’t based off of looks or even gender, but by judge of character. I mean, kids are pretty intuitive when it comes to many things. I just remember how happy I always felt with him. I was so happy. He made me happy. I hope I made him happy. Probably not.</p><p>For some reason, in third grade, he stopped talking to me. Not only me, but he stopped talking to anyone. I asked him what was wrong and in return he yelled at me. I cried again, right there in front of him, except this time he didn't comfort me. I remember the confusion and pain and anguish I felt, too many strong emotions for my poor body to handle, sending me into a hyperventilating mess.</p><p>    I think that incident made me really think about depression. I’d always felt inferior to others, especially with my own family constantly comparing me to my far better cousins. I don’t know when it started, but isn’t that just how it works? You can’t really say when you noticed being depressed cause it feels so ingrained in you that by the time you <em>do</em> realize you have it, it’s already been there far longer than you know. I actually don't really know for sure if I have depression. I'm too scared to talk about it with anyone, too scared to tell my parents, to tell my friends (I don’t have many, but it’s still scary). I don’t know, maybe if I just stopped being a coward and talked to someone, I’d be better. Maybe I’d be happy. I just want to be happy and get help but the thought of anyone knowing how I really am terrifies me. I just want love. I just want my soulmate. I want my Jihoonie. They aren’t called “soulmates” for no reason; there’s an obvious comfort in the thought, I’m just sorry Jihoon will never feel that.</p><p>Jihoon, I'm sorry you have me as your soulmate. You must've been so upset when you found out. On your tenth birthday, you didn't come to school. With my birthday being a few months ahead of yours it was already clear what my Jewel looked like, so I can only imagine the frustration when you realized our— I mean, <em>your</em> fate. Looking back at the memory, it seems so silly. Even though we weren’t friends anymore, I bookmarked your birthday; even now I still have it saved in my phone and calendar. I go so far as to make you a homemade birthday card every year and make sure to buy a gift for you. I always make and buy these things while thinking, "this is the year. I'll give him these and we can be okay. We'll finally be okay." It's never happened, clearly.</p><p>You've always been special to me so I wanted to always celebrate your special day. This is why I was so concerned for you. I was so worried that I went to your house and asked your mom if you were okay. Instead, you were the one to open the door. I was shocked to say the least. You looked completely fine. Your Jewel had been covered, sadly, by your sweatshirt. When I asked why you stayed home, you told me it was none of my business and to leave. So I did. I wouldn't want to make my love mad. When you came to school the next day, you hadn't covered your Jewel. When people saw that ours were the same, they teased you. You've covered it ever since.</p><p>Is it weird that such a small, simple act had such a grand impact on me? I remember walking home from school trying really hard not to cry when I saw you had covered it. Actually, you still cover it. I tell myself that you do it for modesty, like most who choose to cover it, but I don't think that's true. It makes me sad. Something so meaningful in our society was shameful for you. Was it only me that you were ashamed of? I'm sorry you have to live with the fact that we're soulmates. Jesus, I apologize so much to you that this feels like an apology letter. I guess that, in a way, it is.</p><p>Is it really that embarrassing for you to have me as your soulmate? I've never told you this, and I don't plan on it, but you broke my heart that day, Jihoon. I don't think I've ever felt so shattered and so much like a . . . like a failure. But then again, I can really blame you, can I? To have a soulmate like me, someone so cowardly and useless, it must be terrible. You must not fully hate me, though; my Jewel isn't onyx. Not yet. Do you secretly love me, Jihoon? Have you ever really loved me? I'd like that.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>So if the tags weren’t enough, let me just say that yes this fic will have angst HOWEVER it won’t last too long because I’m very impatient and slow burns are grrr</p><p>Thank you for reading and supporting ilyg!!&lt;3</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. i n t r o; Jihoon</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <b>Jihoon's POV</b>
</p><p> </p><p>I hate soulmates. Why should a stupid Jewel tell me who my "one and only" is? It's total garbage if you ask me. Maybe I'm biased, but it's not like it's a bad reason. For example, some "soulmates" abuse their significant other which, one, is fucking bad in any situation and, two, how could you live with yourself after doing something so disgustingly cruel and inhumane to someone who is literally meant for you? For crying out loud, didn’t fate bring you two together?</p><p>I'm not saying all soulmates are absolute shit. I know who my soulmate is. I don't think he's that bad at all, he's actually really nice, and, yes, it's a guy. It boggles my mind how someone could possibly reject their soulmate because of something so trivial; the universe is saying you’re meant to be together, but you draw the line at the other persons gender? Okay, I <em>do</em> understand that some people grow up without their soulmates and follow their basic sexual instincts and desires, wether they be gay, straight, or whatever, but something about rejecting your soulmate doesn’t sit right with me. Maybe I shouldn’t have input, though, seeing as I don't really care about gender. Maybe that's just me.</p><p>Normally, when someone finds their soulmate, they're supposed to just get into a relationship and do whatever you do in a relationship. What <em>do</em> you do in a relationship? I should google it. I don't know when I'll ever use the information, but I guess it's good to know. Some who, like I mentioned, don’t feel romantically attracted to their soulmates choose to identify as platonic soulmates and live their life as such, which, yeah, sounds great, but what if one of them falls in love for the other. The thought seems so painful it makes me shudder.</p><p>It's not like I'm just saying soulmates are shit for no reason or to sound all edgy. My mom and dad were soulmates. They were really in love, too. It’s crazy comparing the start of their marriage and partnership to the end. They were so warm and at peace with one another, like they truly balanced each other out. Like they couldn’t stand the thought of ever being apart. They seemed so happy. Of course, until Mom got sick. Mom got sick and my good-for-nothing father left her because of it. Yeah, they were soulmates, but that obviously didn't fucking matter to him. Apparently their years of union wasn’t enough for the devastating news of her illness; it’s not life-threatening, just painful, enough so to ruin her once happy marriage.</p><p>Being the so gracefully shitty father that he is, he left me to take care of her. I love my mom so of course I'd treat her with care no matter what, but I was just a kid. I was eight. I was fucking eight years old. Eight year olds aren't supposed to go to weekly hospital visits and learn every medical problem that could possibly apply to their loved one, they aren't supposed to work stupid ass jobs no one wants because they’re so shit. They're supposed to have fun with friends while doing the dumbest shit. They're supposed to worry on their grades, not if their mom is gonna die. My grandparents did as much as they could to help and still do, but there was still so much left on my shoulders. So much I had to bare.</p><p>Normally in these types of situations, you either fail at school, fail at taking care of your loved one, or both. However, I'm successful at the two. I'm at the top of my all of my classes, earning A's every semester, even with the honors courses I’ve carefully chosen, all the while making sure Mom is treated as a queen, though that's hard when you live far away in a dorm as you train to be a singer or producer. I didn't plan to do this but I got a scholarship and my mom really wanted me to. She had this look in her eyes. She's always known how much I love music and she's always saying how much she wants me to just be happy and carefree.</p><p>     I was so worried about who’d take care of her while I was away, but thankfully my grandparents, having just retired, took my mother in once again under their roof, promising to take care of their daughter. I still work hard; even with retirement, they weren’t rich and could only afford so much. So I work. I work almost every day of the week (Saturdays are the only days I allow myself a break, though I only spend it on doing homework), and every month I make sure to send enough money for them to comfortably get by. Sure, it means no new clothes except from Goodwill, no eating out unless absolutely necessary, always being stingy and always trying to find the best deals and sales, but how could I do anything less for my mom? To me, the situation seemed like a no-brainer.</p><p>I'm so good in school 'cause I study every night, after I work my night jobs. Sometimes I get no sleep so I have to sleep at school, during lunch; like I said, busy bee, hard worker, yada yada yada. That's why I'm grumpy. I'm not just an asshole for no reason. Not all the time, at least. Being grumpy all the time usually drives people away which, in my case, is good. If I don't have friends to waste precious time with I can really focus on actually important things instead of trivial matters. School and hard work is what gets you a good job. Well, it should be.</p><p>My soulmate and I actually go to the same school. He's a really talented dancer and he's quite good at singing as well. It surprised me when I first learned about it, but when I asked him for the explanation it all made sense. See, his parents aren’t the most supportive of him doing anything they haven’t already decided, which is pretty hard for him considering he’s a raging ball of energy. As he told me, his father and mother both had backgrounds in dance and decided it’d be good for their children to follow in those footsteps. They signed him and his sister up for ballet, tap, modern dance, practically every genre they could.</p><p>    At first he really hated it; he hated the scolds he’d  receive when he messed something up, he hated the judging eyes that followed his every movement, he hated the boring routine of it all. That was until he discovered hip hop dancing. Something about the way they moved seemed so cool and enticing he just couldn’t stay away. So he practiced and practiced, pouring majority of his free time dancing to his favorite songs and eventually getting good enough for competitions.</p><p>    Even though he is clearly so goddamn talented and amazing, he gets bullied a lot. For such a stupid reason, too. He has small eyes and chubby cheeks and when he decided to be an idol, he had to get braces. I don't see why people make fun of him for these things. I think monolids are cute. Chubby cheeks are nice, too; they're soft and squishy. And his braces are adorable. I think they’re just threatened by his talent; he’s definitely somewhere in the top 20 dancers out of our whole school.</p><p>I was actually friends with my soulmate for a long time. I had loved him for a long time, too. I think I still love him. God, why am I such an ass to the person I love? I don't know if what I feel for him is really love, but I just have a feeling in my gut. The feeling is strange. When I'm around him my gut feels warm and full, like when mom and I would celebrate my birthday with only each other. When I hear people talk shit about him I feel sick and angry, like I'm going to either throw up or punch someone. Is that love? I don't know.</p><p>The first time I talked to him was when we were in kindergarten. I had liked him for a while at the time and wanted to be closer to him. The day I planned on talking to him, he threw a tantrum. He threw a tantrum because he lost a pencil. A fucking pencil. Not even one of the good kinds, just a regular shitty pencil. God, he can be so dumb it ends up being cute. After almost half an hour he still wouldn't stop crying, so I went over to him and hugged him. Honestly, it was half out of affection and the other half out of annoyance. It's probably the most embarrassed I've ever been in my life. Not 'cause of Soonie, it was 'cause I don't normally initiate skin-ship. I liked skin-ship with him, though.</p><p>I remember giving him my favorite pencil; it was a light pink mechanical pencil with little bunnies all over it. I wonder if he still has it. Probably. He's always been the sentimental type. We were friends for a long time, until the whole incident with my mom. When I found out, I had to go to school the next day. Soonie, being the person he is, could tell something was off about me. God, he really is amazing. He kept asking if I wanted to talk about it. I did, Soonyoungie, I really did. I still do. I just don't know how. Thank you for caring about me.</p><p>Unfortunately, my mind was too cluttered to be rational. I yelled at him. He told me once before how scared he was of people yelling at him. He told me that since he was so stupid his mom and dad would yell at him when his report card came in the mail. He said it made him feel bad; it made him feel useless. All of these thoughts crossed my mind the instant those words left my mouth. I knew that and yet I still yelled at him. He started crying. I wanted to hug him. I wanted say, "I'm sorry Soonyoungie. I'll be nicer. I won't yell at you ever again. I just have a lot happening." Why didn't I say that? Fuck, if I had just said that . . . I'm sorry Soonyoungie. I wanted to comfort you. I really did. I was just angry and in pain and hurt and <em>scared</em>. You were probably more scared than I was, though. Don't be scared.</p><p>We stopped talking to each other. No, that's a lie. If we ever had any group projects we would work together. No one else was willing. No one wanted to be friends with <em>that</em> kid. It could’ve been about either of us, honestly; pick your choice, do you wanna work with the tiny asshole or the hyper crybaby? Maybe that's why I'm so thankful for Soonie. He was kind to me and made me smile when I didn't deserve it.</p><p>I was happy when I found out he was my soulmate. I still liked him and it gave me hope. But it made me feel bad too. I've been talking about how terrible I think soulmates are, those who hurt their lovers being the worst. But I'm one of them. I hurt my Soonie. I may have only been a child, but that doesn't change the fact that he was hurt.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> Even as a child, I knew full well what I was doing, but I never stopped. I should’ve stopped.</span></p><p>That's why I didn't go to school on my tenth birthday. I didn't want you to be sad that I, the person who betrayed and hurt you, was your soulmate. You still came to see me though. Your really are too kind. But I still shunned you. I guess I really am an ass, huh? You know what's crazy? I think I like you. I'm pretty sure I like you. I don't know if I can change the word "like" to "love" yet because I’m honestly not sure where the line between the two is, but maybe someday. I remember you telling me how much you like me, back in grade school of course. Do still like me? You know, I'd really love that.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>I feel like this chapter was super long, whoops, it kinda got away from me lol. Just to clear things up; yes they know they’re soulmates, no they’re not together yet. I tried to make this clear but people in the past have asked about it so just in case anyone still finds it confusing lol.<br/> Also please don’t hate me for the angst!! It will for sure get better, cause I’m really bad at slow burns and angst and I love fluff</p><p>Thank you for reading and supporting, it means a lot !</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. o n e; i didn’t know i could still shine</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Soonyoung + Jihoon interaction ahhhhh</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Just a reminder that !! THEY ALREADY KNOW THEY’RE SOULMATES !! If any part seems a bit off just remember that little detail and the fact that they’re childhood friends who are now distant cause angst</p><p>Soonyoung’s POV</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p class="p1">     My morning starts off like every other; terrible. I hate everything about mornings. I hate the alarm that bursts my eardrums each day. I hate the bright sun blinding me and suffocating me in its warmth. I hate the loud and obnoxious birds singing so loudly as though the world longs for their melodies. It all reminds me how truly numb I feel; these are things people usually like, so why am I indifferent at best? But maybe that's not the worse thing possible.</p><p class="p1"><span class="s1">     I've already lost count of how many times I've hit the snooze button and decide that I might as well get up, making sure to look at the clock in my haste. </span> <span class="s2"> <em>7:54</em></span><span class="s1"><em>. Shit.</em> School officially starts in six minutes and I'm not even ready. I rush to find clothes and put them on hurriedly, deciding I have no time to even brush my teeth. I run out of the door and to the main office to get a pass as soon as I get to school. I already know I'm going to be late, so I should at the very least have a pass. I check the time again while walking to class. </span> <span class="s2"> <em>8:07</em></span><span class="s1"><em>.</em> Not too shabby, considering I was unconscious less than twenty minutes ago.</span></p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">"Kwon Soonyoung?" I hear the teacher call from inside the classroom, as though he has x-ray vision. I guess the excitement for my timely arrival is not as appreciated by Mr. Park. I curse myself mentally as I open the door, the door creaking much louder than I intended. I hate the feeling I receive as soon as I step inside. I can feel everyone's eyes on me, watching my every movement, hearing some snickers near the windows.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">"Uh, I'm sorry for being late," I say as I hand him my pass. He eyes me with scrunched up eyebrows and an angry frown, but tilts his head in the direction of the class, telling me to take a seat. I nod and walk shamefully to my seat next to Seokmin.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">"You know, you can't keep hitting the snooze button twenty times each morning. You'll get in serious trouble." I turn to look at Seokmin who has a worried smile on his face. I nod my head again and look down at my notebook, pretending to take notes as I lay my head down sneakily. I got hardly any sleep, so what's so bad about taking one teeny tiny nap? I hear Seokmin sigh softly, but choose to ignore it as I drift into a light slumber.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">It's like this almost everyday. I stay in bed because it's honestly just so much easier than doing anything and actually living, I hustle to get to school, I show up late with a pass, and I nap in class. The better alternative is when I get out of bed early enough to make it just in time to not be tardy, but those days are few and far between. It's how I live my life, though I don't really think that's what other people call living. I mean, even I know what it means to really live. Well, used to.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">I feel someone shake my shoulder lightly, nimble fingers touching me softly, and my head shoots up. I look around to see that the class is over and there's a puddle of drool on my notebook, the rest of it drying on my cheek. I sigh embarrassed and look up to find the person who woke me. I don’t know who I expected, but when I notice who it is I stop everything, shocked by seeing his short stature so close.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“J-Jihoon.” His short height makes him only a few inches taller, than me when I'm sitting, maybe a foot since I’m slouching. His sharp eyes glare at me, but I can't help but want to stare at them for hours. Even with his hard expression, something in his eyes makes me feel okay, like we could be okay again. In my one-sided staring contest, I notice he has dark circles underneath them. "H-hey. Um, are you, uh, tired? You don’t look so good and seem kinda grumpy and I just-"</span>
</p><p class="p1"><span class="s1">His gaze sharpens as he grumbles, "W-why do you care? And what about me doesn’t look good, huh?” </span> <span class="s2"> <em>Is he blushing?</em> </span> <span class="s1"> “Look, are you gonna move or not? Come on, I don't have all day," he mumbled annoyed, tapping his foot. My heart deflates as I remember how much he'd changed. I guess he still hates me. It </span> <span class="s2">is</span> <span class="s1"> kind of my fault, I did just tell him he wasn’t looking good after all. I bite back the want to explain myself, to tell him I’m just worried for his well-being, that I just wanted to make sure he was okay. Instead, I nod and pack my things as I fight back my tears. It’s strange how such a small interaction with the person I was made for makes me feel so useless. I rush out of the room and to my next class, avoiding everyone around me as best I can.</span></p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">The rest of the day goes by in a blur. Nothing interesting like always. Maybe it’s not that nothing interesting happens, but that I can’t register good things. Or maybe I’m just not awake enough to enjoy them. Why do I always feel so tired? I stare at the clock in my last class, Traditional Japanese Literature, waiting for the bell to ring. I sigh as the light ticking just seems to make the class feel longer and look back at the person in front of me. I unwillingly let out a sigh, just seeing his back making my stomach bubble.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Jihoon. The only other class I have with him is dance and he avoids me at all costs, usually sticking to the other side of the room whenever we have the choice. Thankfully we have assigned seats in TJL and we have since day one. I’m so thankful for the random seating chart that just so happened to work in my favor; most teachers go by alphabetical, but Ms. Won figured that we were all used to that by now and wanted to “spice it up for the semester.” She would never know how grateful I am for that. Even though it's only the nape of his neck I'm glad I get to see him for a long period of time. He's probably glad he seats in front of me so he doesn't have to look at me at all. Who can blame him?</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">He turns around suddenly and looks at me as though he's expecting something, bringing a warm flush to my face without even trying. "Your paper?" he finally asks, an eyebrow raised expectingly. I stare blankly at him, not knowing what he means. "The teacher wants to collect the papers now, so pass yours up," he explains. I realize what he means and make sure my name is at the top of my paper before handing it to him, flustered at my absentmindedness.</span>
</p><p class="p1"><span class="s1">When he takes it, I feel our fingers brush and a small shiver runs down my body. I can feel the diamond in my Jewel shining, warming me up, and I can only hope it’s not showing three my thin layers of clothes. This always happens whenever I'm around Jihoon. Even looking at him causes my Jewel to go a little wild, especially in times like now when he’s surprisingly calm and composed, so touching him is . . . a rare occurrence. But when it does happen, my Jewel's diamond in the center shines brightly. Even though it's flashy it feels nice. It’s difficult to explain the sensation to someone who doesn’t have a phenomenon like this inside of them, but it’s like coming home after a long, cold, hard day and feeling the warmth and love engulfing you, almost suffocating your lungs with joy that doesn’t feel reasonable, yet so, </span> <em> <span class="s2">so</span> </em> <span class="s1"> good. I try not to get used to it, however enticing it is. Reactions this intense only happen around him, and we clearly aren’t around each other much, to my disappointment. It's basically the only time it happens anymore, so I bask in it while it’s here and let it go peacefully, hoping for the return.</span></p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">I silently pray that he doesn't notice it, but like I said, for some reason I chose light clothes in my haste this morning and it does as good a job as it can to dim the light. He stares right at my chest, where my Jewel is, and I feel proud of it, wanting to show it to the whole world that it was him who did this, him who literally brought out the light from within me. At the same time, I feel embarrassed and shy, wanting so badly to shrink in on myself and hide, scared of whatever ridicule I’m sure he has. I mean, he has to know why it's shining. After all, we do share the same Jewel.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">"Are you happy?" he asks without looking at me as he passes the papers forward to the person in front of him. He looks back at me with a softer look than normal and his face looks just the slightest bit more pink.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">I hesitate but answer, "Y-yeah. How did you-"</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">"Of course I'd know. Your diamond is shining. It happens to me too, y'know." Right. Of course it happens to him. A silence grows between us, and just when I think he won’t respond further, he asks, "Why?"</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">"What?"</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">   "Why're you happy?"</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">I didn't expect him to ask that. "Well . . . it's just that, uh . . ." I trail off, not wanting him to know that he was the one that made me so incredibly happy with just one small touch. That’s lame right? I got this excited from our fingertips grazing each other.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">   He waits for an answer and when he doesn't get one he turns back around. "Whatever. I'll just ask another time," he mumbles under his breath. <em>'</em></span>
  <span class="s2">
    <em>I'll just ask another time</em>
  </span>
  <span class="s1"><em>'</em> . . . that means he wants to talk to me again. I’m probably reading too much into it, but I can’t help it. He wants to talk to me another time. I smile again and my Jewel warms up even more. I must just be very easily excitable.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">   The bell rings and everyone stands up to pack their things and leave. I pack quickly so I can wait for Jihoon, a strange sense of hope and anticipation suddenly overcoming me I know my hope is pointless, but I can't stop thinking about talking to him. It's the closest we've been to friends, to soulmates, in so long and . . . I want to make it closer. I want this feeling to last longer, even if it’s one sided.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">When he finishes putting away all of his stuff in he bag I tap his shoulder, internally cringing at the way my shaky hands are fidgeting, and gather my courage. "Uh, I was just wondering if maybe you'd wanna hang out?” I don’t know what to call his expression, but I don’t think it’s bad. I’m not sure if it’s good, either. “You don't have to, b-but I was just putting it out there," I add quickly, hoping he doesn’t think I’m being too pushy or needy. When we were little he used to complain about how much I always wanted his attention. Maybe that’s what his look means; “stop looking at me like you want a treat.” Still, I wait for his response. I'm startled when I hear a soft laugh from him. How long has it been since I’ve heard that?</span>
</p><p class="p1"><span class="s1">"The shy Soonie wants to hang out with me? </span> <em><span class="s2">Me</span></em><span class="s1"><em>,</em> of all people?" He seems to laugh harder at the idea, but again, I don’t think it’s in a bad way. I stare at him stunned. Is it silly that the first thought that came to me was “</span><span class="s2"><em>he called me ‘Soonie’</em> </span> <span class="s1"><em>”</em>? The nickname went straight to my heart, filling my stomach with butterflies and making my entire body shake with the amount of love behind it. I nod my head frantically. "Well," he pauses, and a blush comes to his soft cheeks, "I guess it's better than what I was going to do, and I don’t have work today . . . sure, why not?" He says it indifferently like he doesn’t care whether he goes with me or not, but the way he brings the back of his hand to his mouth with shyness makes me so happy I feel delirious.</span></p><p class="p1"><span class="s1">There’s something in this moment that makes me giddy. Something about the way he stands, more rigid and tense than before as though he’s replying to a confession. Something about the way he’s dressed, a large white hoodie engulfing his small body and swallowing the tips of his fingers, his black joggers showing a small sliver of his ankles that end his long legs. Something about how with every millisecond that passes his face seems to grow hotter, a glow settling on his cheekbones that he tries so hard to mask. Something about the way his eyes dart around on the floor before taking a bashful glance my way, the flutter of his eyelashes going straight to my heart. Something about </span> <em> <span class="s2">him</span> </em> <span class="s1"> that makes me so crazy, so amazed, so in awe, so </span> <em> <span class="s2">happy</span> </em> <span class="s1"> that I could die right here, right now with him as my last memory; something so good that if time stopped in this moment, I’d bask in it for eternity.</span></p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">He squints slightly, the hand covering his mouth shooting up to protect his eyes as my Jewel's diamond shines brighter than it ever has before. Though his clothes seem much thicker than mine, I swear that before mine shone his was even brighter.</span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>AHHHHHH IDK HOW TO FEEL ABOUT THIS &gt;&lt; I hope it was enjoyable to read lol I’m not very good at angsty stuff cause I really like happy endings and the whole sunshine and rainbows happy ending, but I’m really trying!! Please let me know your thoughts, constructive criticism is always appreciated!!</p><p>Thank you all for reading and I hope you’ll continue supporting this work/series &lt;3</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0004"><h2>4. t w o ; if i could tell you i would</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Jihoon and Soonyoung go to daycare</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>I really like this chapter lol, lots of tsundere Jihoon moments, lots of fluff at the end</p><p>Jihoon’s POV</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p class="p1"><span class="s1">I fucking hate my Jewel so much. I mean, I guess I really love it too, but in times like this I can't stand it. It's so fucking bright when I'm happy, and when is that? Of </span> <span class="s2"> <em>course</em> </span> <span class="s1"> it has to be when I’m around </span> <span class="s2"> <em>him</em></span><span class="s1"><em>.</em> Soonyoung doesn't seem to mind, though. He's smiling ear to ear like a psychopath, his own Jewel’s light peeking through his clothes. The people around us probably think he’s crazy with how happy he looks . . . but I guess it's cute. He's always been cute without trying.</span></p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">We decided to go to an arcade together, suddenly making plans for no reason other than to just hang out. Yes, this is the only day of the week I don’t have work, and, yes, I’d normally spend it to catch up on the hours of homework and sleep I desperately need. But after what happened at school, how could I just up and leave to my room? I might be a little mean, but that’s just cruel. As we walk back from the ticket exchange, a new pink stuffed bunny clutched in my hand, Soonyoung gasps. Before I can chastise him for scaring me, he says, "I totally forgot!" while lightly face-palming. "I'm so sorry, Ji! I forgot all about work," he explains.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">"What? Like, right now?" I feel kind of pissed. I mean, he randomly wants to hang out together but then suddenly remembers he has to work and now wants to call it all off? Isn’t that kinda mean? It’s so annoying how much he controls my emotions, but for some reason it’s not always so bad. This is one of the times where it is.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">He ducks his head and nods, rubbing his nape in embarrassment. "I, uhh, I work at a daycare after school sometimes. I work Mondays, Wednesdays, and Thursdays from 4:30 to 7:00. I guess I forgot all about it since I was having so much fun with you," he says in a very annoyingly adorable way.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">"Why so late?” I ask, ignoring what he said about having fun with me. Maybe he’s bullshitting me. Maybe he just wants to leave, but also wants to spare my feelings. I thought we were having fun together. I was having fun.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Most of the kids’ parents work nine-to-five’s, but there are still some who stay late and they don’t have many workers so late,” he explains. “Usually there’ll be ten kids left over by around 6:00, so I usually just help with cleaning and preparing things for the next day by then.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Can’t say it doesn’t seem like you,” I grumble. “Just call an Uber and we'll go there now," I tell him. He looks confused so I say, "You have to work, right? So call an Uber and we'll go together. Jeez, I have to explain everything."</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">He laughs a little and pats my head. I despise when people touch me, the worst being when it’s in a babying manner like this. But, and I’d never admit this to him, it feels so nice to have the weight of his hand on the crown of my head even for those short seconds. "Okay, I found someone to drive us. Thanks for the idea, Hoonie, you’re so smart." I try to hide my blush by looking down, but he still seems to notice since he rubs my right cheek with his knuckles, clearly not thinking anything of it. His hands feel soft and smooth. His hands used to feel like sandpaper, so it's good that he's finally taking care of that.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">The car arrives and we drive to the daycare he works at. I’m not sure when, but sometime throughout the five minute drive our pinkies interlock. <em>Has it always been this natural to be around him?</em> The daycare is exactly what one would picture; a pastel building with pink on the left wall, blue on the opposite side, and yellow paint covering the front. There seem to be small, sloppy paintings on the lowest parts, most likely painted by the kids. As we get closer, I see small handprints and can’t help the smile that comes from seeing the tiny outlines.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">"The kids and staff paint something every year," I hear Soonyoung explain, noticing my focus on them. "I'll show you mine if we have time," he says as he turns to smile at me, the corners of his eyes squinting upwards. I've always found his eye-smile adorable.</span>
</p><p class="p1"><span class="s1">"Whatever, you probably drew a tiger or something," I respond as we walk through the doors, and by the look of embarrassment and slight shock I know I’m right. The inside is just as cute as the outside, if not cuter. The lobby furniture is almost all white, smaller colorful tables with matching chairs in a corner for children to wait, a bin of soft toys next to it. </span> <em> <span class="s2">Kids always get the cutest shit.</span> </em> <span class="s1"> The walls inside also have small paintings everywhere, though more scattered.</span></p><p class="p1"><span class="s1">"Oh, Soonyoung! We thought you'd be late today!" the receptionist exclaims. She's young, most likely in her early to mid twenties. And she seems to like flirting with Soonyoung. </span> <em> <span class="s2">Gross, what is that, a seven year gap?</span> </em></p><p class="p1"><span class="s1">"Hello, Kyungmi. I brought . . ." he pauses as he looks at me. "I brought a friend, I hope that's alright," he says as he signs in. She nods, clearly trying hard not to glare at me. I only lean closer to Soonyoung, edging her on. I shouldn’t be so possessive, but I can’t help thinking </span> <span class="s2"> <em>mine.</em> </span> <span class="s1"> I mean, he </span> <span class="s2">is</span> <span class="s1"> my soulmate after all.</span></p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">She hands Soonyoung his official name tag and offers me a sticker to write my own name on. I scribble my name on it before slapping it onto my chest. We walk to the room where the kids are. I'm not too fond of children; they're loud and they always make messes that I'll have to clean up myself at some point. Sure, they're cute from afar, but not so much when you have to take care of them.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">While I can't see myself enjoying kids a lot, it suites Soonyoung perfectly. He always seems so cheerful. He's exactly the type of person to easily attract kids. He's goofy and knows how to make someone laugh. He's basically a kid himself. He’d be such a good dad.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">We spend almost three hours at the daycare center, and Jesus fucking Christ I've never hated kids more. Even with only eleven children, there were kids screaming left and right, pulling me to do this and that, whining about how so and so stole their toy. How they have so much energy at seven on a Monday is beyond me. To top it all, almost every one of them asked if I was Soonyoung's soulmate or boyfriend. While I get embarrassed and flustered every time, Soonyoung always laughs at this, telling them it’s a secret.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">    "Let's just say that Jihoonie is a very special person to me," Soonyoung said after being interrogated once more, giving them a small piece of the truth. At least, I hope it’s the truth. All the children go 'ooh' and ‘ahh’ as though it were the latest gossip. "That doesn't mean he's my boyfriend, though! Someone can be special without it being romantic." I don't know why I deflate when I hear that, but I just do.</span>
</p><p class="p1"><span class="s1">    Well, I know exactly why, but I just don't feel like dealing with that shit today, so I won't. I mean, if Soonyoung doesn't want me as his boyfriend then fuck him, I'll get a better boyfriend. But where the fuck would I find someone </span> <span class="s2">better</span> <span class="s1"> than him? <em>Fuck, this is so fucking annoying.</em></span></p><p class="p1"><span class="s1">    "Well, does Soonyoungie want Jihoonie as his romantic person?" I hear a random girl ask. Thankfully, another worker comes to distract them with story time before he can answer. She reads them Cinderella or some other fairy tale while Soonyoung and I clean up the toys scattered everywhere. My head feels foggy with anger and annoyance. I hate that this is getting to me, I hate that I can feel my insecurities coming back up from where I’ve shoved them down. </span> <em> <span class="s2">Who said I wanted him as my soulmate? Why do I need to rely on him for anything? God, why do I care so much?!</span> </em></p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">    "Sorry about them," Soonyoung says. His sudden voice scares me a bit and I flinch, which he giggles at. I glare at him to shut him up; it's surprisingly effective. "They don't mean to be like that, you know? I mean, they're just kids, so they don't really get what they're saying half of the time."</span>
</p><p class="p1"><span class="s1">    "That was probably just you when you were little," I snap and even with all my built up anger I know it was unnecessary. Kids really drain the tiny amount of energy I have out of me. He doesn't speak again. </span> <em> <span class="s2">Way to be an ass</span></em><span class="s1"><em>,</em> I tell myself.</span></p><p class="p1"><span class="s1">    "Okay," the other worker says to the kids, "it's nap time!" I sigh in relief, utterly exhausted from all the work. I look to Soonyoung, wondering what to do next. He seems a bit out of it though. If I’d known it would affect him so much I would’ve </span> <em> <span class="s2">tried</span> </em> <span class="s1"> to shut up.</span></p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">    I nudge him. "You good?" He waits before shaking his head, not meeting my eyes as he gathers the stuffed toys from around the room. "Was it what I said earlier? Because I'm really sorry about that. You know how I can be really pissy about shit when I'm tired." I hate apologizing; it makes me feel terrible, but maybe that's the point.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">    "It's not your fault . . . I'm just a little tired, too, I guess," he smiles, though it doesn’t reach his eyes.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">    "Bullshit. When you get tired you get grumpy, not sad."</span>
</p><p class="p1"><span class="s1">    He doesn't have time to respond because his coworker says, "You can go now, Soonyoung. Your shift ended, like, ten minutes ago." He nods and we head out, a tense silence settling over us. We decide to walk back to the dorms. They're not very far away, only about twenty minutes. As we exit the building, a thought crosses my mind; </span> <em> <span class="s2">he never showed me his drawing.</span> </em></p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">    "Will you tell me what's up with you now that there aren't a dozen midgets around?" I ask, kind of annoyed but mostly worried. I hate how mean I can get when it comes to soulmate stuff, especially since it’s all directed at the man in question.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">    He chuckles to himself. "There's still a shortie right in front of me, though," he giggles. I smack his arm playfully. If it were any other guy in any other situation they'd be lying on the ground in a coma, but it's okay for him. Not just because he's my soulmate, but because he finally smiled after moping for so long. I really do love his smile.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">    "But for real, Soonie," I say seriously. "You know you can talk to me right? And don't be all, 'I don't wanna burden you', 'cause you're far from a burden to me, 'kay? And if you don't wanna talk and you just wanna, I don't know, sit in silence with each other or something then that's cool, too." I can't look up at him; if I look up at him he'll be able to see how red my face has gotten if he hasn’t already noticed.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">    "Thank you."</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">    "Of course. Anytime."</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">    "Ji?"</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">    "Hmm?"</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">    "I love you."</span>
</p><p class="p1"><span class="s1">    I pause, stopping in my tracks. I’ve never been told that, not like this. Hell, the only person who really says that to me anymore is my mom. </span> <span class="s2"> <em>Love? He loves me? Why? Haven’t I been, like, the biggest asshole in the world to him?</em> </span> <span class="s1"> And I know he definitely doesn’t deserve that. I also know he’s not equipped to handle that kind of stuff on his own. I see it everyday when I sneak glances at him, how the world and my words have affected him over the years: dark circles, shy and timid, lonely. So, </span> <span class="s2"> <em>why?</em> </span> <span class="s1"> Why does he still love me?</span></p><p class="p1"><span class="s1">I look up from my shoes, scared to see his expression but I just have to know. It kind of hurts. He looks so scared. Looking closely, I can see his whole figure shaking slightly. If I could truly let myself go and give in, I’d grab his hands, kiss the now soft and nourished skin before planting them on his cheeks, my palms resting on his knuckles. I’d tilt his head down, look him dead in the eyes, exposing every possible emotion of love I have for him, and rest my forehead on his. I’d pull him close, hug him so tightly that he’ll never even have the chance to question my overwhelming love and affection for him. I’d pull his head down, close enough for my lips to reach his ear, and I’d repeat the words back. </span> <em> <span class="s2">I love you.</span> </em> <span class="s1"> But I can’t do that right now, so I settle for the next best.</span></p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Me, too.”</span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>I feel like I haven’t seen the Soonhoon book for this series in forever lol ^^” I really hope I get Jihoon’s idk like mindset/thought process. I wanted to show that he’s just a naturally kind of guarded person and he copes with that by being kind of mean and harsh without thinking, but that he understands it’s bad and that he wants to be nicer to Soonyoung because he genuinely loves him. He’s just got some character development to go through lol.</p><p>Btw!!! I’m bringing this up in all of the My Jewel books, but I’ve been thinking about combining chapters. By that I mean instead of just having a short like 1k-1.5k word update with only one of their POVs I’d combine it so it’d start out with Soonyoung’s POV then about halfway through would switch to Jihoon. I’ve been thinking about this because I feel kind of bad only getting a short update out every few weeks, plus it’ll give me more to write. This may mean longer times in between updates, but please let me know what you think!! If you don’t have any opinion that’s totally fine too!</p><p>Thank you for reading and supporting, all of the love and support really motivates so ty ty ty!! ^^ &lt;3</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0005"><h2>5. t h r e e ; can’t live without you</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Soonhoon walk home and talk about their feelings, tears are shed but it’s okay because they’re happy</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>So idk if this is classified as angst since they do cry but it goes back to fluffy real quick... either way, I cried writing this so by all means grab yourself some tissues before you start.</p><p>Soonyoung’s POV</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p class="p1"> <em><span class="s2">Me too</span></em><span class="s1"><em>.</em> I didn't think he'd say it back. Just the thought of it makes me feel so happy and restless and amazing. My whole body feels as light as clouds and I don't know what to do about it. I feel like I could be hallucinating but like it's all too real at the same time. And to think that only a few days before he'd never even look at me.</span></p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">"Are you okay? You look kinda crazy right now," Jihoon starts out of nowhere, catching me off guard. His head is tilted to the side, his brows are furrowed, and his lips are almost in a pout but not quite. He's gorgeous.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">I nod my head, not trusting myself to form a coherent sentence with words. He chuckles at me and says, "Good. I thought I broke you for a second there."</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">I feel the corners of my mouth tug upward, my emotions getting the better of me like always. Just looking at him and his own adorable smile makes me feel . . . weird. Like my stomach is being twisted in insanely tight knots. Like my heart might stop from beating so uncontrollably fast. Like I'll wake up from the best dream I've ever had. I missed this.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">"I . . . I should walk you home." I look at the ground, not daring to make eye contact with him, but my head snaps up after I hear a hearty, uncontrolled laugh from his lips. He's laughing so hard that he has to squat on the ground so he won't fall over. He falls over anyway.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">    "We're already here, stupid!" he barely gets out in between his laughs. His face is tinted a light pink, his cheeks taking the color of full on crimson, and he's gasping for air like what I said was really the funniest thing ever. I forgot how easy it was to get him laughing.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">    In the past he would've used the nickname 'stupid' in a more harsh way, like he really thought I deserved to be called that. His voice is much more lighthearted and carefree, something I missed listening to. I feel my own laughs bubbling up, from happiness or from seeing him laugh, I don't know. I suppose from happiness since seeing him feel such happiness would fill me with the same emotions. It probably shouldn’t make me as happy as it does to his Jewel shining through his shirt.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">    "Alright, alright," I say jokingly as I walk towards him, "that's enough. I was just trying to be a gentleman." As I say the word gentleman I step back, exaggerating every movement, and hold out my hand like Prince Charming. His laughs die down and he takes my hand in his, rising from the concrete, not forgetting to do a simple curtsy. I don’t remember the last time I had this much fun.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">We walk in comfortable silence until we reach his dorm. Neither of us mention how our hands stay interlocked throughout those few minutes. "Uh . . . ," he starts before pausing, "I actually had a lot of fun tonight. I mean, the kids were a bit much . . . , but I had a lot of fun with you." He words are hushed, his tone shy, and his eyes are avoiding mine no matter what. It’s been so long since I’ve seen him embarrassed. I like it.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">"Really?" My voice is more surprised than I intended. "That's good! We . . . ," I stop, wondering if what I'm about to say is really okay. What do I want to say? I want to tell him that I’ve loved him since even before I knew we were soulmates, I want him to know that I would never give up on him, I want him to know that through all these years I’ve still remained hopeful. But I also want him to know how much he hurt me. I want him to know that even I have a limit to how much I can endure. I want him to know how many times I laid in bed thinking of him only to cry at the thought. I want him to know everything. "We should've done this a long time ago."</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">We're silent for another moment or two, but this time it feels foreign; unwanted. The atmosphere has changed from lighthearted and joyful to scarily still and cold. I’m about to wish him a good night when I feel a small hand pinch my sleeve in a fist. "I'm sorry," I barely hear him whisper. "I'm sorry about what I did to you . . . I shouldn't have hurt you like that. I should've just told you how I feel, how much I love you, but instead I . . . instead I hid from you and acted like being around you was worse than the plague just to cope with my own stupid feelings." He looks up at me with tears in his eyes, streaking his otherwise perfect face. "I'm sorry, Soonyoung."</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">I have no words. I don't trust myself to say anything anyways. He mumbles a small “fuck” and continues sobbing into his sleeve, trying desperately to hide his face from me. I really want to cry. I want to let years of anguish and heartbreak out. But that won’t help anyone, so I pull a smile up from who knows where, and I hug him. After only a breath can I feel his small, shaking arms wrap so tightly around me, it seems like it's the only way he can be sure I won't leave him all alone. Like I won't leave him the way he left me.</span>
</p><p class="p1"><span class="s1">"I . . . I don't know if I can fully forgive you just like that, Ji." He squeezes me tighter, and I hear a whimper that threatens to break my heart in two, his head burrowing further into my chest. "But I'm almost there. Just give me time. Give </span> <em><span class="s2">us</span></em> <span class="s1"> time."</span></p><p class="p1"><span class="s1">    While I'm not sure if I completely forgive you, I am absolutely positive that I love you. I love you more than anyone else in the world. I love you more than any amount of measurement could suffice. I love you more than the air I breathe to stay alive because really if you're not in my life then how am I living? I love you so, </span> <em><span class="s2">so</span></em> <span class="s1"> much, Jihoon."</span></p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">I feel him sob into my chest, soaking my shirt thoroughly as his cries are muffled by the fabric. His arms have grown tighter and it really feels like he can't stand to have me leave for even a second. I pat his head, whispering soft nothings into his ears, little things like 'you're beautiful' and 'I could never live without you' because I really couldn't. Living a life without Jihoon . . . the mere thought of it makes me pull him even closer into my chest. With every ‘I love you’ I feel another sob rip through his body, and with every sob I tell him I love him again.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">"Come on, let's get you inside," I tell him before the tears I feel welling up around my own eyes spill. Even with how late it’s gotten, there are still some students around and the last thing he needs is an audience. He nods and lets go of my body, settling for my hand again as he continues wiping tears and snot from his face. We walk the few steps we need to until we reach the dormitory's door, the receptionist clearly alarmed by the mess Jihoon has become. I guide Jihoon to the elevators, knowing the stairs are out of the question, and press the needed floor number.</span>
</p><p class="p1"><span class="s1">We step out of the elevator and Jihoon, with my hand still in his, takes me to his room. </span> <em><span class="s2">269</span></em><span class="s1"><em>,</em> I think as I look at his room number. </span> <em><span class="s2">I wonder if it's a sign. </span></em> <span class="s1">I can't even try to suppress my laugh and Jihoon clearly doesn't get it. I point to the room number and immediately his bright red flush is back along with an intimidating glare.</span></p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">"Sorry," I barely get out. "It's just so funny how you of all people got 69 as your room number."</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">"Iasked to change rooms just because of that," he grumbles while unlocking his door. We stand for a few seconds. I wonder if I should bid him a good night first when he suddenly asks, "Do you wanna come in?", and I have to stop myself from agreeing too soon.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">He walks in before me, apologizing for the mess as he tidies up a bit. His living room is simple; a pair of gray chairs to match a gray couch, and he has simple lights that he mentions change color as he turns them on. He has a decently sized TV and a plain wooden coffee table he's currently cleaning the dirty dishes off of.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">I sit on the couch, still staring at the environment around me. My eyes stick to a picture of him and his mother. He can’t be more than six years old, a large toothy grin I remember seeing a handful of times plastered on his innocent face. He looks to be laughing, carefree and happy as he’s wrapped in his mother’s arms. I forgot how much they resembled each other.</span>
</p><p class="p1"><span class="s1">I turn my head to the clanging sounds and find him in his makeshift kitchen putting his dirty dishes in the sink before rummaging through his mini fridge to find drinks. </span> <span class="s2"><em>I could definitely see myself waking up to this.</em> </span> <span class="s1">I shake my head as my brain starts to fog up with inappropriate thoughts.</span></p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">"Okay, I'm done," I hear Jihoon say as he comes back from the kitchen, now with two drinks in his hands. He hands me a cup, telling me it’s tea, before sitting on the couch beside me. "So . . . what do you wanna do?" he asks awkwardly.</span>
</p><p class="p1"><span class="s1">"Well, it's pretty late . . . maybe I should just go to my dorm instead." It's not late at all. The last time I checked my watch it was about </span> <em><span class="s2">7:27</span></em><span class="s1">. I don't want to leave, but I'm not sure if he'll want me to spend the night; it feels like everything is moving super fast.</span></p><p class="p1"><span class="s1">"It's fine, just stay here." </span> <em><span class="s2">Shit</span></em><span class="s1"><em>.</em> He sets his cup on the table and asks, "Do you want the bed or the couch, maybe the floor?"</span></p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">I know I should restrain myself, but the idea of cuddling with Jihoon in my arms is too tempting for me to reject. Besides, he wouldn’t offer it if he really didn’t want it. At least, I hope that’s how it is. "T-the bed," I stutter.</span>
</p><p class="p1"><span class="s1">He nods, surprisingly not commenting on my muddled words, after giving me a look that somehow reads</span> <em><span class="s2">I already knew what you’d say, I just wanted to hear it out loud,</span></em> <span class="s1"> and leads me to his bedroom. It’s not a big explosion of pink and fairytale decorations, but it’s a lot cuter than I expected. He has pink fairy lights and plushies everywhere, an overall theme of white and gray with simple splashes of color throughout. "Jeonghan got the little lights," he explains. "I've had some plushies for a while, but I've been getting more recently. You remember some of them from elementary school, right?"</span></p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">"Yeah, like that one," I say while pointing to a simple stuffed penguin, the navy blue and white cloth looking worn and almost dirty. He nods his head, ducking it just after I see the glowing blush he’s sporting. "It's really cute." He nods again, muttering something about it being his favorite. He can't possibly know how absurdly adorable he is in every way.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">"I'm gonna go get dressed," he says while taking clothes from his closet and wandering into what I assume is his bathroom. He tells me to get comfortable and to get in bed when I’m ready. “There’re probably a few clothes big enough for you in my closet, just take whatever fits,” he says before closing the door. I stalk over to his closet, alarmingly aware of his scent throughout the room. I open the closet doors, trying to spend as little time as I can sifting through his clothes. <em>If I stay here too long, he’ll probably get annoyed.</em> I find a big, worn-out shirt and a pair of loose drawstring shorts and slip them on before opening the covers to his bed. I snuggle into the sheets, loving the smell engulfing me, and wait for him to come back.</span>
</p><p class="p1"><span class="s1">He enters the room wearing similar baggy shorts to mine that are, unlike mine, </span> <span class="s2">definitely</span> <span class="s1"> short and a long, huge t-shirt that he seems to be swimming in. He avoids eye contact as he flips off the light switch and goes straight to the other side of his bed, opening the covers before shuffling inside next to me.</span></p><p class="p1"><span class="s1">Too many moments of silence pass and just as I’m about to turn to my side I hear him whisper, "Do you wanna cuddle?" His sudden voice makes me jump a bit and I pause for a few extra seconds because how, </span> <span class="s2"><em>how</em></span> <span class="s1"> could he just ask that out of nowhere? "Because you can if you want." He turns his body to the side, his back to me as though he <em>wants</em> to taunt me— it’s so close, and I can have it in the few seconds it’ll take to wrap my arms around his small frame.</span></p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s2">
    
    <em>I really hope this isn’t some kind of test</em>
  </span>
  <span class="s1"><em>, </em>I think as I nod in confirmation. Then, slowly, I scoot closer to him until my chest almost touches his back, and I carefully wrap my arms around his surprisingly thin waist, unconsciously pulling him closer to me than I originally intended in my mind. I start to squirm around a bit, trying to get as comfortable as possible (which really isn’t hard with Jihoon in my arms), before he spins around. I see a faintsmile on his face as our noses touch before he starts snuggling his head in the crook of my neck, filling the space between my shoulder and my neck perfectly. I really might be imagining things, but it really felt like he took a big inhale while sneakily snaking his own arms around me.</span>
</p><p class="p1"><span class="s1">I feel his legs intertwine with mine, his feet warm against my legs. I feel his small, dainty hands ball the fabric of my shirt into them and squeeze tightly. I feel his eyelashes flutter against my bare neck, his breath soft and tingly. I feel our Jewels just centimeters away from each other and imagine what it’d be like if they touched. I feel the warmth radiating from our shining diamonds, a brightness we both seem to have gotten used to tonight. I feel all of this and wonder how long it’ll last— </span> <span class="s2">if</span> <span class="s1"> it’ll last. I feel all of this, and I just know deep in my heart that I could never love anyone the same way I love Jihoon.</span></p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“You smell good,” his lips mumbled against my skin, still incredibly close to me. He rubs his nose even more against me and his arms get tighter, and I can’t exaggerate enough how insanely happy I am in that moment.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Thank you, Ji,” I whisper into his hair, “you smell good too.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Soonie?”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Yeah?”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Please don’t leave.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">I wait for him to correct himself, to say ‘sorry, I didn’t mean that’, but he doesn’t. “Of course,” I say while carding my hands through his hair. “I’d never leave you in a million years, Ji.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">He nods into my neck and places a soft kiss on my skin, so gentle I barely even feel anything. I move my head to take a good look at his face. I don’t know if I’m more happy or heartbroken at the sight. His eyes are red and puffy, sore from the rivers of tears he shed tonight. His lips are a similar shade, soft and a deep pink. I use my thumb to dab at his left over tears only to have him rub his cheek into my palm in such an endearing way I almost pat his head at the sight. He presses another small kiss into my hand, looking up warily afterward. <em>How did I live before him?</em> I smile and take my chances, returning the gesture and brushing his bangs aside to peck his forehead gently, showing him how carefully I want to treat someone as precious as him. Watching him preen afterwards is all the reward I need.<br/><br/>     Then we sleep. We sleep soundly together, not knowing what will happen when we wake up and not really caring. Instead, we focus on each other, something we should have done a long time ago. In the back of my mind I wonder again if this'll last, I wonder if a moment like this will ever repeat itself, but those thoughts are overpowered by the sight in front of me, a gently snoring Jihoon fueling the intense love for him in my heart. I hate how long we stayed away from each other, I hate how much I endured when I could’ve been happy with him all along, I hate how I never did anything to help the person I love so much. But I leave that aside and focus on the last part; I love him. I love him, and I know I’ll never stop loving him. I want him to know, too. "I love you," I whisper in his ear, letting him know for the second time tonight.</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">    And for the second time he says, "Me, too."</span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>This is like one of my favorite chapters I love it so much this is like my baby I adore it. How did you guys feel? I think I could drag on the angst but I think I’ll do that in the next chapter lol ^^’ anyways, please let me know if you’d like! Constructive criticism is always appreciated as well as kudos and other comments (obviously only if you want to!!) Tysm for reading! :)</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
</body>
</html>